


compliance

by beskars, sabaccshots



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Captain kink, Dirty Talk, F/M, Humiliation, Light Dom/sub, Praise Kink, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spanking, authority kink, brat taming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:48:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25851610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beskars/pseuds/beskars, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabaccshots/pseuds/sabaccshots
Summary: “Rex—” you exclaim, feeling your cheeks heat with embarrassment.“No,” he says, shaking his head. “You don’t get to call me that tonight, not til you earn back the right. Try again.”“...Sir?” you attempt meekly, and the single nod of approval he gives you in return makes you ache for more.“Now answer the question,” he tells you, and you falter for a moment before he adds, “that’s an order.”
Relationships: CT-7567 | Rex/Reader, CT-7567 | Rex/You
Comments: 11
Kudos: 214





	compliance

**Author's Note:**

> come find us on tumblr @ beskars and darthstyles :)

compliance; 

  
  


_The Mynock’s Den_ was not a nice bar. It wasn’t quite as seedy as some of the establishments you had worked at in the past but it was a far cry from the upscale locales in the entertainment district that you would occasionally visit when you had credits to spare. All in all, it wasn’t the type of place you would have expected a Captain of the GAR to patronize, and you had experienced a brief flicker of paranoia the first time he had come in, wondering if this was the result of the owner—who was admittedly quite lax about a number of regulations—falling out of accordance with local laws. But the Captain hadn’t been seeking anything other than a drink in whatever semblance of serenity a rundown bar in the Works could offer. It had taken one shot for the tension to begin to ease away from his broad shoulders, and another for him to give you his name, a name that you had found yourself whimpering out hours later between kisses that tasted of Tevraki whiskey. 

He had left before the first rays of morning light began to filter through the blinds of your bedroom. There had been a brief goodbye mumbled against your temple that you drowsily returned, but that had been all. You hadn’t expected anything else to come of it, and had made peace with the fact that you would likely never see him again before your first cup of caf had even finished brewing. But then, just a few standard weeks later, he had shown up again, and then again, and again, and now you couldn’t even look at a bottle of Tevraki whiskey without thinking about him. 

You stopped seeing anyone else after the first night you met him, but you knew what you had with him was as far as it would ever go; the life of a soldier was hardly conducive to anything more. But that didn’t stop you from straining your ears for news of the comings and goings of the 501st, and from feeling unaccountably betrayed when you learned he had neglected to visit you despite his entire company having two days of leave. By the time you found out, they had already been deployed once more, back to the Outer Rim for some indeterminable measure of time. You had poured yourself his drink of choice at the end of your shift that night, one measure in spite and the other in tribute, but it was tainted with bitterness and you couldn’t bring yourself to finish it. 

That had been nearly a month ago, and your hopes of seeing him again had waned with Coruscant’s moons before abruptly flaring back up when you caught word that Torrent company was planetside once more. The news brought a traitorous thrill of excitement, one you tried unsuccessfully to suppress, not quite managing to keep your eyes from darting to the door every time someone entered the bar, only be cast back down in disappointment when it wasn’t him. As the night wore on, you decided that if he _did_ elect to turn up, you would pour his drinks as generously as ever, and you would be perfectly courteous but you would pay him no more mind than any other customer. In fact, you thought somewhat unkindly, perhaps you would pay him significantly _less_ attention, just to see what he does. 

You’re tempted to discard that plan the moment he steps through the entryway, distinctive blonde buzzcut seeming to glow even in the dingy luminance, eyes the same color as the whiskey he favors immediately settling on you. Fighting back the urge to reach for the whiskey as he approaches, you ignore the swooping sensation in your stomach and give him a polite smile usually reserved for unfamiliar customers.

“What can I get for you?” you ask, savoring the brief flicker of hesitation that crosses his face.

“The usual, please,” he replies, and you tilt your head at him in confusion. 

“Refresh my memory?” you say innocently, and he gives you an unamused look, beginning to answer before you cut him off with a grin. “I’m joking. Just wanted to make sure.” 

“Make sure?” he questions, brow furrowing as you pour a liberal amount and push the drink towards him before raising it to his lips, watching you over the rim.

“That your tastes hadn’t changed,” you answer with a shrug, and he takes a sip before setting the glass back down.

“They haven’t,” he tells you simply. 

Ignoring the voice in your head urging you to stop while you’re ahead, you press on.

“Well, you’ve been gone a while. It wouldn’t be unheard of,” you comment, grabbing a towel and wiping off a nonexistent spot on the bar, unable to keep the accusatory note out of your voice as you continue. “What’s it been, a month since you were last planetside?”

His eyes narrow warily, and you know you’ve given yourself away but meet his gaze levelly, almost daring him to deny it.

“How’d you find that out?” he asks eventually, taking another sip.

“You’d be surprised at what you can find out working in a bar,” you reply, bristling slightly at the short huff of laughter he lets out. 

“Oh, I’m sure _The Mynock’s Den_ is a prime source of intel,” he remarks, finishing his drink, and you feel a surge of annoyance, though you aren’t sure whether it’s directed at his jibe or at the fact that he clearly has no intention of apologizing.

You’re spared from answering by the arrival of a burly shipyard worker you vaguely recognize, greeting him with a bright smile before turning back to Rex, who is glancing over at the man with mild interest. 

“Another?” you ask briskly, distractedly refilling his glass when he nods before making your way over to the newcomer.

There are only a few other patrons left at this hour, most of them lingering over half-finished drinks, reluctant to leave the comfort that the worn-in booths offer to venture back into the outside world. Their tabs have been closed out already, leaving you free to focus on this new arrival, who seems startled but pleased with the attention you’re lavishing on him. He introduces himself as Darrus between sips of Blackmoon ale and regales you with stories of his incompetent coworkers that you pretend to laugh at while purposefully ignoring Rex. Much to your dismay, Rex seems wholly unconcerned by your antics, content to sip his whiskey in silence as your attempts to make him jealous grow more and more obvious. 

As closing time draws nearer, and you have yet to elicit any sort of response from him, you tug down the hem of your shirt, baring as much cleavage as your shirt will allow, and lean forward across the bar to continue your conversation with Darrus. His eyes flick down to your neckline, cheeks flushing slightly before his gaze comes back up to you, and you give him a cheeky grin. It seems to embolden him.

“Are you doing anything after this?” he blurts out, and you shake your head slowly. 

“No,” you tell him, rolling your lower lip between your teeth, “I’m free.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rex’s jaw tighten momentarily before unflexing once more, and you press on determinedly. 

“I just have to close up, and then I’m all yours,” you say, and Darrus gives you a grin before shooting a pointed look down the bar at Rex, who doesn’t bother acknowledging it.

The last of the stragglers depart, and you cut the music, leaving the three of you in a silence that seems to thrum with tension. 

“Hey, pal,” Darrus calls to Rex, who turns ever so slightly, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “The bar’s closed.”

“So leave,” Rex responds, getting to his feet and drawing himself up to his full height.

“I think you’re the one that needs to leave,” Darrus replies, following suit. “You’re holding her up.”

“Am I holding you up, sweetheart?” Rex asks, turning to you, and you hesitate a moment too long, the use of the unfamiliar endearment strangely foreboding, falling from his lips like a curse. 

Having successfully called your bluff, he turns back to Darrus with a satisfied smirk. 

“She’s not going anywhere with you,” Rex tells him, and Darrus splutters angrily.

“But she just said—” he starts, looking to you for corroboration before Rex interjects smoothly.

“She was just using you to get back at me,” he says, and there’s a pitying note in his voice that almost makes you wince in sympathy. “Better luck next time, _pal_.”

“Is that true?” Darrus asks, whirling to look at you, but you’re too transfixed by the way Rex is looking at you to answer.

“Get lost,” Rex orders, not even bothering to glance over at the other man, his eyes burning into yours with an intensity that sends scintillas of heat through you. 

Darrus hesitates for a moment, his gaze darting between the two of you before letting out a string of curses as he slams a handful of credits down on the bar and stalks out. 

“Do you think he left a tip?” you joke, but Rex doesn’t seem amused.

“Come here,” he commands, an edge to his voice you haven’t heard before, and you comply, leaning up to kiss him as you close the distance between the two of you. 

He grabs your chin roughly, pushing a startled gasp from your lips, and backs you into the bar, the ledge of it digging into your spine. 

“Tell me, sweetheart,” he starts darkly, “what would you have done if I had just left, hmm? Were you going to let him fuck you? Take you from behind so you could pretend it was my cock in you instead of his?”

“Rex—” you exclaim, feeling your cheeks heat with embarrassment.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “You don’t get to call me that tonight, not til you earn back the right. Try again.”

“...Sir?” you attempt meekly, and the single nod of approval he gives you in return makes you ache for more. 

“Now answer the question,” he tells you, and you falter for a moment before he adds, “ _that’s an order._ ”

“No, sir,” you stutter out, your breath catching as he pins you against the bar, caging you in with his arms, “I wasn’t going to let him fuck me, I only wanted you to—”

“Wanted me to what?” he questions, and your skin feels hot with shame as you gather the answer on the tip of your tongue. “Spit it out.”

“I wanted you to be sorry for not coming to see me,” you say sheepishly, and he lets out a humorless laugh. 

“I’m not gonna say sorry to you for a damn thing, sweetheart,” he replies, and you wither beneath his unforgiving stare. “Not when this is how you behave.” 

“I’m sorry—” you whine, looking up at him with pleading eyes before catching yourself and adding, “Sir.”

“No, you’re not,” he tells you, leaning down and brushing his lips against your ear, his following words dripping with promise, “but you will be.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


It takes everything you have not to crash the speeder on the way back to your apartment, your hands trembling as he sits in stoic silence beside you, the space between you almost palpable. He follows you from the docking platform through the doors, one hand resting firmly on the small of your back, and only once you’re inside do you turn around to face him. Biting down on your lower lip, you wait for his instructions as he folds his arms across his expansive chest and stares down at you with a dispassionate expression. 

“You knew exactly what you were doing, telling him that you were all his, didn’t you?” he asks after a moment, and your mouth goes dry. 

“Yes, sir,” you whisper, knowing he’ll see through any attempt to deny it.

“Did it make you feel good, acting like you don’t know who you belong to?” he continues, placing two fingers under your chin to tilt your face up to his.

“N-no, sir,” you stammer, watching as his jaw tightens. 

“Don’t lie to me,” he grits out, and you whimper out an apology that does little to mollify him. 

“I’m sorry, Rex– _sir_ ,” you hastily correct yourself, imbuing your following words with all the contrition you can summon. “I was only acting like that because I missed you—”

“Oh, you missed me?” he scoffs, taking your chin in his hand and bringing it up and down to exaggerate your fervent nod. “Yeah? You sure weren’t acting like it, were you?” 

“No, sir,” you mumble, cheeks blazing with shame even as you leaned further into his touch, desperate to feel as much of him as he would allow. “Please, let me make it up to you—I’ll do anything, anything you want—”

“Yeah, you will,” he says quietly, and you draw in a shaky breath as his thumb brushes over your lower lip, darting out your tongue to taste his skin. “But maybe I shouldn’t let you. Maybe I should just have you get on your knees and listen while I tell you everything I’d be doing to you right now if you hadn’t decided to act like such a little brat, hm?”

Your eyes widen, a plea scraping its way from your throat as he yanks his hand away, depriving you of its warmth. 

“Please, sir—” you stutter out helplessly, “please, at least let me try—”

“You think you’ve earned the right to, after how you acted tonight?” he asks sternly, and your mouth falls shut as you slowly shake your head. “No is right, sweetheart. But I’m going to let you try anyway. Now what do you say?” 

“Thank you,” you tell him, relief flooding through you, “thank you, sir, I promise I’ll be good for you—”

“On your knees,” he rasps, voice deliciously gruff and low as he waits for you to comply.

You summon all the grace you have left to avoid dropping to the floor harshly, hands shaking as you move to grasp at his belt.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He demands, and you freeze in place.

“I…” 

For a moment, you aren’t sure what he means. Does he want you to _tell him_ you wanted to suck his cock? Does he want to _hear_ that you’re desperate and eager?

He grips your jaw in his hand, forcing your head up, and heat pangs deep in your gut.

“I didn’t say you could touch me.”

Shivers erupt over your skin, and your hands drop to your lap at the deep, dominant tone of his voice.

His massive hand cups your face roughly, and when his thumb drags over your lower lip, it falls open. A smirk creeps onto his face at how pliant you are, how your body reacts to his touch.

He takes a knee, bringing him eye level with you, and you knew he could feel your hot breath on his skin.

“You gonna behave for me, pretty girl?” he purrs. “Gonna let me put you in your place?”

You nod as if in a trance, completely wrapped up in him.

“Yes, sir,” you breathe eagerly, and his smirk broadens. 

“Good girl.”

Blaster-calloused fingers caress your face tenderly, making you whimper softly and nuzzle into the touch. You hear him chuckle darkly, and if you had more presence of mind, you’d be embarrassed at just how desperate you look for him.

He licks his lips, and you’re transfixed, wishing you could taste them. He leans down to whisper in your ear, those soft lips brushing your cheek.

“How about this,” he hums. “You want me to take you over my knee, pretty girl? You think that’d make you learn your lesson?”

It’s a legitimate question, one he wants an answer to, you can tell, but _stars_ , he didn’t even have to ask.

“Yes, sir,” you blurt out helplessly. “ _Please._ ”

He grins as he tugs you to your feet, sitting down on the bed and patting his thigh.

You move to climb into his lap, but he holds up a hand.

“Take ‘em off,” he drawls, and you comply shakily, tugging your pants down your thighs.

Goosebumps break out on the back of your neck as he rakes his eyes down your hips, the intensity in his eyes stoking a fire in your belly.

You gasp when he tugs you down over his lap, settling a strong hand on the small of your back. He runs it gently under the hem of your shirt, and you press your cheek into his thigh.

“Pretty,” he murmurs when he snaps the waist of your panties against your skin. He brushes over the black lace on your hip, appreciating the feel of it against his fingertips. “You wore these thinking someone would be ripping them off you tonight?”

“ _Shit_ ,” you whimper, earning a harsh spank to your thigh.

“Did you think it was gonna be me?” he spanks you again, rougher this time. “Or were you planning on letting someone else take you home?”

The grit in his voice is evident, and you shake your head, feeling the fabric of his trousers dig into your cheek.

“No, sir!” you gasp, fisting the sheets as he spanks you again. “Only you.”

“Only me?” he repeats, tugging the thin strap of your panties up tightly against your skin, making you whimper when the lace grinds against your clit. “You seemed pretty friendly with your other little friend at the bar.”

You’re feeling dizzy with the way he manhandles you, gripping your thighs and spanking you until your skin is flooded with heat. You never realized just how badly you wanted this until now.

Until _him_.

“You telling me you wouldn’t have let him fuck you with these pretty little panties still on? You wouldn’t have taken his cock and pretended it was mine?”

“N-No, sir!” You whimper as he spanks you again, hips grinding down against his thigh. “I don’t want him, it’s only you.”

He hums thoughtfully, rough hands kneading your abused skin. You can feel yourself dripping at the little sting of pain, and it feels _immaculate_.

You feel him lean down to your neck, biting just a little too sharply at the soft skin, and you can’t hold back the moan you’ve been fighting.

“You only think of _my_ cock when I’m gone, pretty girl?” he murmurs softly. “You think of how good I make you feel?”

You nod dumbly against his thigh, gripping the sheets as you grind against him. He spanks you again, and your back arches as painful pleasure licks up your spine.

“Then thank me for it,” he commands simply, spanking you roughly again. “Thank me for how good I make you feel.”

The way he says it so effortlessly, the way his voice demands your respect and attention, it’s intoxicating.

“Thank you, sir!” you cry out. You’d be shocked if you hadn’t soaked through your panties onto his trousers yet.

“For what, sweetheart?” he says cooly, making you whine.

“Th-thank you for making me feel good, for… _shit!_ ”

You break off into pathetic moans when he slips your panties to the side, brushing over your clit and sending shivers down your spine.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

You whimper when he slips a finger inside you, feeling just how wet you are for him.

“Thank you… f-for reminding me who I b-belong to, sir,” you gasp weakly, crying out again when he spanks you harder than ever this time. With his finger buried inside you, he’s got to feel the way you’re gushing with every spark of pain.

“Oh, you filthy little thing,” he murmurs softly, gently massaging the skin he’d smacked raw. “Did so good, baby girl.”

He began to kiss up the back of your neck, slowly working another finger into you. You melt into the touch.

“ _So_ good for me,” he tells you appreciatively, and you let out a low whimper at his praise. “Louder, baby girl, I want to hear you.”

You moan unabashedly as he slowly works his fingers inside of you, drawing out a litany of breathless curses and pleas. He feels you beginning to tighten around him, your cries becoming steadily louder as you grip the sheets tightly, pushing back against his hand. 

“You want to cum, pretty girl?” Rex asks quietly, and you nod fervently against his thigh.

“Yes, sir—please,” you gasp out as he curls his fingers inside of you, beckoning you to right to the edge before abruptly stopping and pulling his hand away. 

“Ask for my permission,” he commands, and you feel frustrated tears stinging your eyes at the loss of his touch, tilting your head to look up at him.

“Please, sir. Please, I want to—I _need_ to cum,” you say, the words dripping in desperation. “Please, _captain._ ”

He lets out a low exhalation at that, and you give a pleasurable shiver at the way his eyes darken as he skims his hand over the backs of your thighs.

“Oh, you are a good girl, aren’t you?” he replies, a pleased note in his voice, sliding his fingers back inside of you. “Go on then, cum for me.”

There’s nothing teasing in the way he’s touching you now, your body tautening for him as he brings you to release, your cries muffled against the rough fabric of his trousers. 

“There you go, baby,” he murmurs encouragingly, working you through it with slow, steady movements. “Good girl.”

As you go limp against him, he removes his hand from between your thighs and gives your hip a gentle squeeze before helping you to your feet. You begin to tug up the hem of your shirt before stilling, waiting for him to give you a permissive nod before doing away with everything you have left on, coming to stand in front of him. He watches you, giving you a small smile.

“Come here,” he says softly, drawing you into him and pressing his lips to yours.

You savor the familiar taste of whiskey on his tongue and the soft scrape of his stubble against your skin, melting into his kiss completely as you wrap your arms around his neck. He breaks away momentarily and grasps the backs of your thighs, lifting you up with him before returning his lips to yours as he reorients the two of you so that your back is to the bed. Laying you down, he begins to undress, unhurried as he strips off each layer until he’s completely bare. The thoughts of him you conjure in his absence are enough to ease the ache of missing him, but they’re nothing compared to having him like this before you, so close you can feel the heat of his body from where he stands between your legs. Taking himself in hand, he leans down, letting the spit fall from his mouth down to your already slick entrance and pushing into you in one swift movement. 

“Fuck—” you gasp out, the stretch of him forcing the air from your lungs as you instinctively wind your legs around him. 

He doesn’t move.

“What would you do if I just held you here like this, hm?” he asks quietly. “All full of my cock, not letting you move. Would you still be my good girl then?” 

“ _Sir…_ ” you whine, biting down on your lower lip as he pins your wrists overhead with one hand. “Sir, please—”

“Would you?” he asks again, more insistently this time, and you nod fervently.

“ _Yes_!” you tell him, whimpering as he shifts his hips ever so slightly. “Yes, I would, always—”

“You love being my good girl, don’t you?” he says, and you nod again, desperately now. 

“Yes, sir—” you stammer, and he leans down, brushing his lips against your ear as he slowly begins to move. 

“I know you do,” he murmurs, biting down on the soft skin below your ear. “I can feel how much you love it, baby girl, so wet for me—”

You let out a moan as he reaches down and bends one of your legs to your chest, brushing up against a place inside you that makes your back arch from pleasure with each thrust. 

“There you go,” he grits out as a curse falls from your lips. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Who makes you feel this good?”

“You, sir,” you breathe out, “only you.”

“That’s right,” he tells you, pressing a bruising kiss to your mouth. “You want to cum again?”

You nod dizzily, unable to speak as he reaches to the cleft of your thighs, his thumb intently circling your clit. 

“Beg me,” he orders, and you squeeze your eyes shut as his ministrations threaten to tip you over the edge. He releases your wrists and roughly grabs your chin, forcing your eyes back open. “Look me in the eyes and beg me to cum.”

“Please,” you babble desperately. “Please, sir, you feel so good—please let me cum on your cock, _please_ , captain _—_ ”

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” he mutters, his jaw tightening as he slips two fingers in your mouth. “Anything for my good girl. Cum all over me, baby.”

You moan around his fingers, your legs trembling as you come apart for him, tears blurring your vision. He groans when you tighten around his cock, gritting his teeth as he thrusts into you with renewed fervor, his movements growing more erratic now. 

“You gonna let me fill you up?” he asks, drawing his fingers out of your mouth and pushing both legs up to your chest. “Be a good girl and take all my cum?”

“Y-yes, sir—” you stammer, so full of him you can barely form the words. “Please, cum inside of me, I wanna feel you—” 

His hips stutter against yours insistently and then he’s spilling inside of you with a moan of your name, his thrusts slowing to a stop. You’re completely limp against the sheets, your breathing unsteady, Rex supporting himself on one arm above you as the two of you gradually regain the ability to move. Pulling out of you, he rolls onto his back and lifts his arm to allow you to cozy up to his chest, his skin hot against your cheek. 

“Hey,” he says after a moment, voice slightly hesitant, and you tilt your head up to look at him. 

“Yeah?” you ask, and he leans down to kiss you softly.

“I missed you, too.”

  
  


* * *


End file.
